


Feyrhycien shorts

by kremlin



Series: tumblr shorts and prompts [2]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, MAAS Sarah J. - Works
Genre: Developing Relationship, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Love, Multi, Open Relationships, Shameless Smut, Smut, Three-way Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-03-12 15:16:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13550022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kremlin/pseuds/kremlin
Summary: Lucien and Rhysand have been a couple for 3 years now, and they are very much in love still, but both of them also harbor a secret love for a certain girl.





	1. #1 - Confessions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [illyrianrhys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/illyrianrhys/gifts), [mywritingbox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mywritingbox/gifts).



“Rhys?”

“Hmmm?”

Lucien looked at his boyfriend, studying his gorgeous profile, the way his luscious black hair fell into his brow in that absurdly dashing way, the curve of his Cupid’s bow.

After 3 years, he was still crazy in love with him, but lately, he couldn’t help his eyes wandering to that one person - the same person Rhys’ eyes were currently fixed on.

“You like Feyre?” he asked.

Rhys tore his eyes from Feyre’s swaying figure on the dancefloor and met his boyfriend’s gaze.

“Course I do. You don’t?” he said his tone slightly wary.

Lucien slipped his hands in his and intertwined their fingers, pulling and playing with Rhys’ fingers with his free hand while he kept his gaze on their joined hands.

“Not that way. I mean… do you like her?” Rhys’ grip tightened slightly. “Because I do,” Lucien confessed.

Rhys gave a little sigh and the both of them turned their gazes back to Feyre, who had been pulled in by Mor for a close dance, their bodies brushing up against each other while they danced in a slow seductive rhythm.

Lucien’s pants felt very, very tight all of a sudden. A quick glance at Rhys confirmed he wasn’t the only one turned on by the girl’s little show. Rhys’ eyes shone with lust - and something else.

“Yeah, I like her,” he admitted in a husky voice.

Then they both grew silent.

Their relationship had always been an open one and they each had had lovers and one-night stands on the side, but they had one rule - no relationship but theirs. Casual sex with others was fine as long as feelings weren’t involved. But Lucien didn’t just want casual sex from Feyre. And neither did Rhys.

“We’ve never gone for the same person,” Lucien said with dry amusement.

Rhys chuckled darkly. “No. But one can’t help with Feyre, right? She’s just so…”

Lucien sighed longingly “Right?”

They shared a look of mutual understanding and grinned.

Rhys leaned in and brushed his lips over Lucien’s cheek.

“If I asked Feyre to be our girlfriend, would you be jealous?” Rhys whispered into his ear.

Lucien raised one eyebrow. “Of you or Feyre?”

Rhys smirked at him in that damned way of his. “Both?”

Lucien huffed a laugh and pressed his lips on his. “No! Yes? Maybe? I don’t know. Let’s go find out.”

Rhys chuckled and deepened the kiss, pouring in every bit of lust and frustration he felt. Lucien responded likewise.

“Hey, and where’s mine?”

They broke apart to look at Feyre, who had come to stand beside them. She was flushed and sweaty from dancing - and sexy as hell.

Lucien shared another glance with Rhys, who gave him a little nod, and they both took hold of one of Feyre’s hands, pulling her closer.

Lucien and Rhys leaned in and Feyre - consciously or unconsciously - raised her face to theirs. The guys simultaneously planted a little kiss at the corners of her mouth. When they pulled away, the most delicious shade of pink was staining her cheeks.

Lucien let go of her hand to snake his hand around her waist, pulling her into his side while his other hand still tightly grasped Rhys’. His boyfriend’s hand was sweaty with nervous anticipation.

Rhys, too, let go of her hand and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, lightly running a knuckle over her cheek and jaw, before resting his hand on her shoulder.

“Feyre darling, we had this idea…”


	2. #2 - Negotiations

“No.”

Feyre crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“Come one Fey, we know you want it too,” Lucien said.

Rhys nodded enthusiastically, both of their faces alight with barely contained excitement.

Feyre asked herself, not for the first time, how exactly she’d ended up in this particular situation.

She blamed the amount of alcohol she’d consumed and Mor’s repeatedly voiced encouragement of _just fuck them already_ that had her down Mor’s drink and stalk over to the kissing couple, demanding a kiss for herself.

Feyre had been in love with the two of them for the longest time.

She had fallen in love with Lucien first, because he was such a snarky, sarcastic little shit. They’d been assigned to the same project at work and between their arguments and fights, she had often wondered if his sharp tongue might be as apt between her legs as it was at lashing out whippings. Most of their time together at work was spent with Feyre imagining the next argument turning into heated, angry sex on their desks.

And then she had met his boyfriend Rhysand, and it had been love at first sight. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

Lucien made Feyre feel all hot and bothered, while Rhys could make her blush with a single look, or smirk, or when purring her name. And seeing how lovingly the two of them behaved with each other had made her want to be a part of whatever they had; to join right in. She just hadn’t meant it quite that literal.

“I’m not sharing… Not this!” she stated adamantly, her gaze falling on the huge king-size bed, unease welling up inside of her at the sight. The logistics of their proposal alone…

“Aw, but just imagine how nice it would be. The three of us in bed, you between us, no disturbing layers…” Rhys teased seductively.

“For the last time, no!” Feyre seethed. “I’m not gonna share a damn blanket with the two of you!”

Her boyfriends’ faces fell.

“Why though? I don’t understand, “ Lucien asked dejected.

“Yeah. I had it made specifically for the three of us. We’re all gonna fit under it with some blanket to spare. We could even invite Mor, Cass and Az to sleep under it and we’d still be comfortably covered,” Rhys argued.

Feyre eyed the custom-made monstrosity on their bed. “I don’t care if 10 people could sleep under it, one of you idiots is gonna steal the blanket during the night and I don’t want my ass to freeze off,” Feyre stated with some finality.

Rhys smirked at her, the lopsided smile downright indecent. “I wouldn’t worry about your fabulous behind getting cold. Me or Luc gonna have it covered at all times. Literally!“

Feyre threw him a dirty look, but Lucien’s hand running over her round bottom just then was distracting her quite a bit.

“Yeah, like we do every night,” he whispered into her ear, squeezing her buttocks affectionately. “Only there would be no blankets between us we’d need to shove out of the way, but we could press closer anytime.”

Feyre squirmed at the touch and the image Lucien painted for her. Rhys too scooted a bit closer, bending down to nibble at her earlobe.

“Just imagine you turning around in your sleep and just pressing that delicious little bum into one of us, without bothering to rearrange those damn individual blankets,” Rhys purred into her ear in a sultry voice .”And imagine all the spontaneous, half-asleep fun we’d have if you’d just start sleeping naked like we do. Like, if you grind your ass against my -”

“OK fine, we can share that damn blanket! Now back off,” Feyre cried, her cheeks a vibrant, flaming red. She stepped away from her boyfriends, who were grinning so hard, their faces were about to split in half.

Feyre jabbed one finger at them.

“But I warn you! The moment one of you fuckers steals the blanket for the first time, I’m back to using my own,” she threatened.

Lucien gave a confident nod. “Not going to happen babe, I promise.”

Feyre was back to using her own blanket just two days later.


	3. #3 - Bragging

“Yesterday, while we we’re waiting for you to come home, Feyre fell asleep on me,” Lucien declared, grinning like the lovestruck fool that he was.

Rhys made let out a low sound of protest.

“Not fair! Why does she only ever fall asleep on you? She never does on me!” he complained with a little whine.

“Well,” Lucien said, his grin turning downright dirty, “I kinda wore her out beforehand, so it’s not like she intended to fall asleep.”

Rhys gave a gasp of indignation. “You had sex before I came home? Without me?”

Lucien snorted. “Hon, you come home like between 9-10pm every night. Of course, we’re having sex while we’re waiting for you.”

Seeing Rhys’ pout, Lucien leaned over to nibble at his bottom lip.

“Do you know why though? We miss you so much, all we do is talk about you, and when we do, Feyre always gets that adorable spark in her eyes and she blushes thinking about you, making her look so delicious, I can’t help myself.”

Looking slightly mollified at this admission, Rhys softly bit back before kissing the hurt away.

“I know what you mean. When we talk about you, she always starts biting her lip and she makes that lusty face that makes me want to take her right on the spot,” Rhys admitted with a faraway look in his eyes, probably imagining said face right this very moment.

A quick downwards glance had Lucien suspect that Rhys might also be imagining something else.

“Why don’t you? Take her right on the spot, I mean,” Lucien asked, brushing his fingers up and down Rhys’ thigh, inching a bit closer to where a suspicious bulge was tenting his pants with every languid stroke.

“You’re certainly not shy with me when it comes to that.”

Rhys observed the motion of Lucien’s hands with watchful eyes, but didn’t stop him.

“I don’t know if she’d actually want me to,” he confessed in a small voice.

“Oh, but she does!” Lucien laughed. “Just before she fell asleep yesterday, she mumbled something about you and wanting to be fucked against a wall.”

Rhys’ cheeks turned slightly pink. He didn’t blush often, so Lucien loved it when he actually did. Even more so, if it was him who managed to make him blush

Lucien scooter even closer and pressed a kiss to Rhys’ neck.

“You guys should do it! And let me watch.”

Rhys gave a little moan, that reminded Lucien of something else.

“Did you ever notice-”

“The little noise Feyre makes before she comes? Yeah,” Rhys gave a longing sigh. “She’s just so freaking adorable!”

Lucien hummed his agreement and leaned his head against his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Talking about it makes me want to hear it,” he said with a little smile. “We should tackle her when she comes home. Or you should, fulfilling her little wall fantasy. And then, when she’s tired, she’ll maybe fall asleep on you.”

Rhys gave a soft laugh and turned to Lucien, giving him a smouldering look.

“And what will you do, babe?”

“Enjoy looking at the two people I love most in the world,” Lucien said with a loving smile, pressing a soft kiss on Rhys’ lips.

“You guys do realize that I’m still here and you’re being incredibly disgusting, right?” Mor scoffed from her end of the couch.

“No, they don’t,” Feyre said behind them.

She was leaning against the doorway with crossed arms, looking like she had been standing there for a while. “And neither did they realize, I was.”

The look she gave her boyfriends was not the one they wanted to see.

~

“Feyre?”

“Hmmm?”

“Why exactly are you sleeping over at my place?” Mor asked her friend.

Feyre laughed a wicked little laugh.

“Because sex with either or both of them is great, but nothing compares to make-up sex when they think they’ve fucked up.”


	4. #4 - Lazy Day

Rhys woke, cursing his inner clock that had him wake up at 7am sharp on a Sunday no matter he tried to sleep in.

But he didn’t mind as much anymore when he saw to what he had woken up to.

His boyfriend’s beautiful face was turned towards him, their hands clasped and cradled against Lucien’s chest. Feyre was lying behind Rhys instead of between them like she usually did, her body curled around his being the big spoon for once, but because of their height difference, her face was pressed to the middle of his back instead of his neck. One arm thrown over him and resting on his stomach, she held onto him, her breast pushed him against him somewhere around Rhys’ lower back.

She was naked for once - they all were. They must’ve fallen asleep right after sex yesterday, which wasn’t unusual for Rhys, whose body kept to a tight schedule when it came to sleep, but it was slightly unusual for his partners. But well, they all had had a though couple of weeks at work. They were dead tired.

Rhys closed his eyes for a bit, relishing the feeling of laying in bed, cuddling with his two favorite people in the world, but his cursed body wouldn’t let him go back to sleep. Especially not, when his bladder suddenly warranted immediate attention as well.

With a sigh he opened his eyes again and carefully untangled himself from his partners’ arms, not without passing out a liberal amount of little kisses on both their heads, faces and necks. Neither Lucien nor Feyre stirred.

When Rhys came back to their bedroom, it was to find that Feyre had scooted over to Lucien in her sleep, probably in the search of another warm body now that Rhys had deprived her of his own.

He stopped to take in the scene: Lucien had shifted onto his back, head turned sideward towards Feyre, a small, content smile on his shapely lips. Feyre lay on her side, loosely curled into a small ball, her head resting in the crook of Lucien’s shoulder, one hand on his chest, covered by his.

They looked utterly adorable, a picture of pure happiness and love.

Based on a split-second decision, Rhys waltzed over to the bedside table on Lucien’s side and unplugged his phone from the charger, snapping a picture of the cute scene. Then he sent it to Mor, cancelling their plans for lunch today. Rather than keeping up with their social obligations, Rhys decided, what the three of them needed was a lazy day in bed.

His phone buzzed when Mor’s reply came in.

Mor: _GROSS!_  
Mor:  _no sexy pictures of my brother and sister-in law in the mornings_  
Mor:  _Or EVER!!!!_  
Mor:  _YA NASTY! lunch is so cancelled. Don’t want to see your face around for a while!_  
Mor:  _tell Feyre her tits are fantastic!!!_

Rhys chuckled and put the phone to silent mode, putting it back down in the bedside table. Eyeing Feyre’s boobs, he had to agree with Mor. They were indeed fantastic. And giving him ideas.

Circling the bed, Rhys slid back under the covers and molded his body to Feyre’s, spooning her like she did before. Snaking a hand around her waist, he pressed his palm flat against her ribcage, pulling her a bit closer to him.

Still asleep, Feyre ground her ass against him in reflex, making Rhys smile against her neck before he planted a little kiss there. He let his fingers brush over her ribs and stomach, gently trying to wake her up. Feyre pushed her behind harder into him, lightly rubbing against his growing erection and mumbling something under her breath, but didn’t open her eyes.

Rhys let his fingers wander upwards, running a knuckle along the underside of her fantastic tits and pushed his pelvis into her soft, round butt. Lucien’s arm under Rhys’ and Feyre’s heads twitched and he stirred lightly when Feyre shifted and shimmied her hips in response to Rhys’ actions, but the two of them still didn’t wake.

Going for a bolder approach, Rhys palmed one of Feyre’s breast, gently pinching her already swollen nipple between his thumb and pointer finger. Feyre breathed out in a long, slow exhale and straightened, pushing her breast further into his palm and giving him clear access to his next target.

Releasing her breast, Rhys let his fingers travel down over her stomach and slipped them between her legs, pressing down on her clit with his middle finger. Feyre breathed out another slow exhale, but this time it sounded almost like a moan. Rhys knew she was awake then, but Feyre kept her eyes closed and her body still, waiting for him to continue.

Pushing down further between her folds, Rhys gathered some of the moisture already gathering near her entrance with two fingers and then returned to her clit, massaging it in slow, lazy circles.

Lucien suddenly gave a sleepy groan and Rhys looked over to his boyfriend.

He too hadn’t opened his eyes yet, despite being undoubtedly awake – how could he not if Feyre was in the middle of pumping her hand up and down his shaft. Rhys chuckled softly at his two horny sleepyheads, who couldn’t even be bothered to wake up fully for sex, and continued his slow assault.

Feyre nudged Rhys with her behind, indicating she needed more than his fingers on her clit. Biting down on the sweet spot between her shoulder and neck, Rhys sheathed himself into her from behind and started to rock back and forth slightly, matching his thrusts to the lazy rhythm of his fingers.

Soon, the air was filled with soft panting, the occasional moan and the smell of sex and arousal.

They weren’t going at it fast and hard enough to work up a sweat, but instead enjoyed dragging out the gentle, slow fuck and handjob. When Feyre choked out a soft, strangled gasp after a good, long while, Rhys knew she was close and slightly increased his pace, pressing down harder on her clit.

She came with a soft whimper, clenching her walls around Rhys cock hard enough to trigger his own orgasm. He stilled as he spilled himself inside of her, enjoying the way her walls tightened and relaxed repeatedly in a pulsing movement around him.

With a kiss to her neck, he eased out of her, looking over to Lucien, who had finally opened his eyes when he heard what they called Feyre’s “orgasm alarm”.

“My turn,” he declared sleepily and pushed Feyre onto her back, entering her in one, languid motion, but turning his face to Rhys for a good morning kiss.

“Good morning hon,” Lucien said before pushing his tongue into his mouth.

“Good morning babe,” Rhys responded after they’d broken apart.

“Good morning indeed,” Feyre breathed from underneath Lucien, eyes closed and a smile tugging at her lips, thoroughly enjoying the attention she was getting from both of her boyfriends this early on a Sunday morning.

Lucien dropped his head to her shoulder, nibbling at her collarbone and nuzzling her neck, while he thrust into her in the same slow rhythm Rhys had before.

Feyre grabbed Lucien’s ass and held him, unwittingly spreading his cheeks, which was terribly convenient for what Rhys had planned to do next. His fingers still slick with Feyre’s juices, he slid them between Lucien’s cheeks and spread the moisture around his anus, toying and massaging it until it softened under his touch. Lucien trembled adoringly as he did so, snapping his hips harder into Feyre, who in return gave an audible gasp.

Lucien threw Rhys a dirty look out of the corner of his eyes, but quickly screwed them shut and moaned loudly when Rhys pushed his finger inside digit by digit and then started pumping in and out slowly.

This, finally, had Feyre sleepily blink one eye open, checking for the cause for Lucien’s sudden moaning.

She raised her head from the pillow and threw a look over Lucien’s shoulder, smiling at the sight of Rhys’ finger buried inside of Lucien’s ass while he was buried inside of her. Turning her face to Rhys, she puckered her lips in silent demand.

With a little chuckle, Rhys followed suit and gave her a kiss. Feyre closed her eyes again with a satisfied hum.

“Don’t make him come too early,” she said, turning to Lucien and kissing his temple. “I’m nowhere near close.”

“Greedy, wicked little thing,” Rhys purred and curled his finger, lightly pressing the spot he knew Lucien liked, eliciting another moan from him.

They continued their lazy pace, Rhys eventually adding a second finger, until the boys heard the orgasm alarm go off a second time. Lucien picked up the pace and thrust into Feyre harder, Rhys following suit and pumping his fingers faster, curling them to stimulate Lucien’s prostate and make him come.

Feyre and Lucien moaned in unison as they climaxed, Lucien crumbling on top of her afterwards without bothering to pull out.

Rhys smiled happily at the sight and pressed soft kisses onto their cheeks before reaching for the box of wet wipes on their nightstand and handing them out. Feyre took one with a sleepy smile and nudged Lucien off her, so she could clean up. With a grumble, he rolled of her and threw an arm over his eyes, blocking out the light.

Rhys and Feyre made quick work of cleaning themselves and Lucien, constantly sharing little kisses and kissing Lucien while they did so, before laying down on either side of him and hugging him between them.

“I cancelled our plans with Mor. Let’s have a lazy day today,” Rhys declared, shifting to get comfortable and planting another kiss to Lucien’s shoulder.

“Breakfast in bed?” Lucien asked in a tired voice, his eyes already drifting close again.

“Oral?” Feyre asked, carefully tracing the lines of Lucien’s abs with her finger.

“Deal!” Rhys smirked.


	5. #5 - Gone

Rhys had tried to come home earlier today, he really had, but it was still almost 8pm by the time he unlocked the door to their apartment.

“Feyre?” he called, closing the door behind him.

“In here,” she replied from the general direction of the living room. Dread pooled in his stomach. From her voice, it was clear that she had been crying again.

He quickly unbuttoned his coat and took of his shoes before searching for his girlfriend’s location. He found her in the living room, curled on the couch in fetal position, wrapped only in a shirt. He suspected, it was not his.

She looked up to him with unnaturally bright eyes, the blue-grey color of her irises offset by the slightly red whites of her eyes. She must’ve cried a lot to be looking like this. Rhysand dropped on his knees before her and stroked her head.

“Feyre darling, how long have you been crying?” he asked softly, pressing a little kiss to her eyebrow and cheek.

Feyre sniffled. “Since I came home. I took of my clothes and wanted to change into something more casual, when I found his shirt. And then it just hit me that he is gone.”

Tears welled up in her eyes again and her chin started wobbling. With a sigh, Rhys raised himself and sat down on the couch, pulling Feyre up and into his lap. She instantly wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face into his neck, sobbing quietly. Rhys felt her hot tears slide down his neck and his own throat started constricting.

Lucien was gone. He’d left and there was nothing they could do about it.

Blinking away the tears that threatened to spill from his own eyes, he pressed a tender kiss to Feyre’s neck, but found this to be a grave mistake. Going for the spot he knew she liked, he came dangerously close to the collar of the shirt Feyre was wearing - the shirt Lucien had left behind and that carried his scent.

“It still smells like him,” he gasped, no longer able to contain his tears. They slid down his cheeks before he could stop them.

He missed Lucien so much. It was like a limb had been ripped from him; like Lucien had carved out a piece of his heart when he had left Rhysand and Feyre with a sad, but determined look on his face, dragging his suitcase behind him.

Feyre raised her head to look at him, the two of them staring at the other.

“He only left two days ago, so of course it still smells like him. But who knows for how long?” She sobbed and fresh tears spilled from her eyes. “What if it stops smelling like him before he comes back?”

Rhys tenderly brushed some of the tears away from her cheek and leaned in for a soothing kiss. Her lips were soft and swollen from crying, tasting slightly salty because of her tears. Or maybe his. Feyre responded eagerly, clinging to him in desperate grief.

“He’s only gone for a week, darling. He’ll be back in no time,” Rhys said against her lips, trying to calm Feyre and himself, but the words rang hollow in his own ears.

Feyre inhaled a shaky breath and pressed her lips back to his in a sloppy kiss.

“We must forbid him to go on business trips ever again. I hate it,” she bleated when they broke apart.

Rhys gave a sigh and wiped the tears out of his eyes. “That we must do, darling.”

When Lucien had informed the two of them that he needed to travel to the other end of the world for business, Rhys wasn’t exactly elated, but he had assumed that with Feyre staying behind, he wouldn’t miss Lucien all that much. He had also been kinda excited of finally having Feyre all to himself for the week that Lucien was gone, but the reality of the situation was grossly different from what he had expected. 

Despite his own assumptions, both he and Feyre were utterly miserable without Lucien around, the other’s presence only a weak consolation. Rhys loved both Feyre and Lucien equally, just because he had one of them close didn’t mean he didn’t miss the other like hell. 

Especially when Lucien was on a 15 hour flight with no means to communicate them. They hadn’t heard from him since he boarded the flight yesterday.

Pressing another kiss to Feyre’s lips and wiping away her tears with his sleeve, he asked, “wanna try call him on Skype? I’m pretty sure he must’ve reached the hotel by now.”

Feyre rested her head against his shoulder and placed her hand on his chest.

“Okay,” she said in a small voice.

Rhys buried his nose in her hair and soothingly stroked her back.

“We can have Skype sex with him if you want,” he suggested. “You could keep on his shirt while we do.”

“Only if I can see the screen while we’re doing it,” she said, already sounding a bit more cheerful.

“I’ll take you from behind, so we can both see him,” Rhys promised. “I’ll go get the laptop, and you write him a message?”

“What if he isn’t online?” Feyre asked, peering up into his face.

Rhys pondered this for a bit. “We could pull up a picture of him instead and do it while looking at it?

Feyre smiled at that. “Let’s tape it, so we can send him a video. And then he has to send us one in return.”

Rhys nodded and kissed her. “I must say, I love that brilliant mind of yours, Feyre darling. Now let’s write our man.”


	6. #6 - Payback

His phone started beeping and vibrating the second he had typed in the WiFi password they had provided them with.

Cursing softly under his breath, Lucien turned it to mute and shoved it into the pocket of his dress pants, so it was out of his eyes. Unfortunately, it was not out of his mind.

Lucien had gone almost two days without any word from Rhys and Feyre and it was wearing him down more than he’d thought it would.

He and his team were currently on what Rhys jokingly called “emissary business”, negotiation business deals with their business partner on the other side of the world. Their flight had been long and the layover so rushed and short, they’d almost missed their connecting flight. There had been no time to log into the airport’s WiFi to even send a message or check whether they had written him.

The phone in his pocket felt like a brand as Lucien was aware of the  ~~probably numerous~~ incoming messages, but he couldn’t check.

Lucien had hoped to catch a moment of reprieve at the hotel, to maybe freshen up from the flight and then call or skype the loves of his life, but their business partner’s delegation had been waiting at the airport, ready to whisk them away to impromptu negotiations. The fuckers were probably hoping for them to be too tired to concentrate after two days of travel and not to drive as hard of a bargain as they usually would. They had no idea whom they were dealing with.

Nesta was currently leading the negotiation for their party, ripping apart their  ~~enemies~~ business partner’s demands into teensy, tiny bits with a few, clipped words and an accompanying glare™ .

It was their usual modus operandi. Nesta unsettled the opposing party with her demeanor alone, shredding them viciously, cutting and slicing them apart with her taciturn ways and angry stares, which had them confused, trembling and fearing for their dear life.

Eventually, they would turn to Lucien in the hopes he was easier to deal with - and frankly more likeable.

Lucien would give them a honeyed smile and honeyed words that they drank up like a parched flower drank water. And when the idiots relaxed around him and dropped the shields they had erected in defense of Nesta, Lucien talked them into accepting their terms and more with that silver tongue of his. There was a reason they called him fox at home.

Nesta now cast him a quick  ~~glare~~  look, one carefully coiffured eyebrow raised.

She looked so much like Feyre, in unguarded moments it hit him like a blow to the stomach. Especially when she was giving him those mock stares or looks of barely contained annoyance, that reminded him so much of the beginnings with Feyre, when all they did was fight and ridicule each other and all Lucien could think about was how much he wanted to rip her clothes off her and push her down on the table in the conference room.

Lucien missed her and Rhys so much, it physically hurt.

But he gave Nesta a little imperceptible nod and turned towards the other party, giving them a brilliant, sharp smile.

“Maybe, we should get Miss Archeron here a coffee and something sweet, because it has been a rather tiring journey for us, and I’ll take over for now.”

~

Lucien stared at the bouncing tits that were filling his phone screen. He’d know them everywhere. He loved starring at them and burying his face between them every night after all. And he knew the hand that now came up to cup and squeeze them. Those fingers could do things that had him blush just thinking about them.

 _A sex tape_. His partners had sent him a fucking sex tape.

After hours of negotiations, which had the opposing party exactly where Nesta and Lucien wanted to have them without the idiots realizing, they’d called a break. Lucien had immediately dashed to the bathroom, finally able to check in with his loves.

He had expected a torrent of  _miss you_ ’s and  _come back’s,_ but not _Feyre won’t stop crying since you left._ Lucien had expected Rhys to be weeping and brooding while he was gone, because that romantic idiot was already as clingy as a Koala bear on a normal day. But Feyre? Lucien’s heart swelled with tender love thinking about his headstrong, fierce girlfriend crying over him, because he was away on a week long business trip.

But least of all, Lucien hadn’t expected a sex tape _._

He stared at his boyfriend and girlfriend fucking vigorously in what looked to be the kitchen, Feyre bracing herself against the marble countertop while Rhys thrust into her from behind. Both of them looked directly into the camera as if they were looking at him.

Lucien was glad he hadn’t watched this while still in the conference room, seeing that his tailored pants were cut to hug his form to perfectly; they didn’t leave any space to hide the raging hard-on now straining against the fine fabric. He was also glad his phone was still put to silent mode. Judging from the way their mouths hung open and the pace they were going at, the two of them must be making quite some noise. And Lucien didn’t care to have his partners’ gasps and moans fill the dingy corporate bathroom, especially not when someone was occupying the stall next to him.

Rhys:  _we wanted to do this while on Skype with you, but you’re still out of reach. Missing you and thinking about you._

Scrolling further down in their group chat, it seemed they missed him a great deal, because they had sent him more than one video, all recorded at different locations of their apartment.

Lucien laughed softly and read the message Feyre had put at the bottom.

Feyre:  _you better pay us back with a video of yourself, asshole!_

With a smile on his lips, Lucien typed a quick reply, before pulling up his camera app and unzipping his pants, freeing his erection from it’s confinement.

Lucien:  _in the middle of negotiations. Skype when I’m back at the hotel. This must suffice for now_.

Pushing the record button, he started pumping up and down his shaft with a happy groan, making sure it was loud enough so they could hear it when they would watch his payback.


	7. Chapter 7

When Feyre had untangled herself from the usual mess of limbs and blankets that came from sharing a bed with not one, but two people this morning, she had felt fine. Tired, grumpy even, but fine; completely in line with how she felt every morning before she had had her first coffee.

Feyre had showered, eaten the breakfast a very sleepy Rhys had made for her while she had gotten ready for work and let an annoyingly chipper Lucien drive her to work.

Two hours into her work, she had felt slightly dizzy, but Feyre had wrote it off as a side-effect of staring into her computer for several hours straight, working on some very intricate details for a design.

But when lunch had rolled around and the dizziness had not only gotten worse, but her stomach had also lurched at the sight of food, even Feyre had to admit that something was wrong with her.

A trip to the bathroom had her balk at her own face in the mirror: she looked paler than death, safe for the weird, feverish blotches of red on her cheeks, and there was a weird sheen in her blue-grey eyes. She was sick, a stomach bug most likely, considering that Feyre made good use of her trip to the bathroom by emptying her stomach from the remains of her breakfast. Bacon and eggs didn’t nearly taste as good when eating them backwards, she found.

She made her way back to her office on wobbly legs, shivering and sweating at the same time, and bid her colleagues farewell, but not without politely sanitizing the door handle on the way out and offering to smooch everyone, who was interested in taking a few days off. Strangely, nobody took her up on that offer.

Feyre dragged herself home to her own apartment, shot a quick message to her boyfriends about having to cancel their plans for today and likely tomorrow, and then collapsed onto her bed, not bothering to undress. She barely managed to shimmy under the covers and then she fell asleep.

Loud banging and the doorbell ringing repeatedly forced Feyre awake. Checking her phone, she saw she had slept for about 3 hours - 3 hours in which her boyfriends seemed to have gone ballistic, freaking out over the cryptic message she sent earlier.

She had several missed calls and a multitude of concerned messages from both Lucien and Rhys, slowly escalating from  _What’s wrong?_  to  _If you don’t call is back within the next hour, we’re calling the police_ and  _open the damn door before we tear it down Feyre._  She bet 100€ against herself that she knew who was currently trying to rouse the dead by smashing her front door – or, well, her.

Feyre dialed Rhys’ number and the banging against her door immediately stopped. It gave her enough time to make her way to her front door and open it. She was greeted by the worried faces of her boyfriends, Rhys having his phone pressed against his ear.

“Hello good sirs. Would you mind shutting the fuck up?” Feyre greeted them with a scowl.

Instead of answering, Lucien and Rhys both tackled her, stroking her face and body, checking for injuries and talking at the same time, so she had no chance to understand what either of them were saying. Feyre gave a resigned sigh. It wasn’t hard to guess what information they were after.

“I’m sick. I was sleeping. You’re annoying. Please leave, I want to go back to sleep. I love you. Bye.”

With that, she turned around and trudged back towards her bedroom. But getting out of bed and talking had jumbled up her stomach enough for it to decide, there might be still something left to get rid of, so Feyre quickly ducked into her bathroom to hurl her guts up. The soft patter of footsteps and two large hands combing back her hair and holding it at the nape of her neck told her, at least one idiot boyfriend, if not both, had followed her to bear witness to her compromising state. A cool hand wrapped around her neck and Feyre took a shuddering breath when the retching subsided. A damp washcloth conveniently appeared in front of her face.

Feyre took it and wiped it over her eyes and nose, that both had decided to support her mouth by providing accompanying leakage, and sat back on the bathroom floor, completely exhausted. Rhys released her hair he had been holding in favor of stroking her back and Lucien filled her toothbrush mug with fresh water, so she could rinse her mouth. Feyre gave them a tired nod of thanks and accepted the mug, spitting the water into the toilet, once she was done rinsing.

“Thank you, but I’m okay now. You can -”

“We’re not leaving!” Rhys announced promptly.

“Please, I’m just gonna retch and sleep for the rest of the day and night. Nothing you can help me with!” Feyre claimed weakly. She didn’t want them to catch whatever she had.

Feyre tried to pull herself up by the sink, but her arms kept failing her. Defeated, she allowed Lucien and Rhys to help her to her feet.

“Yeah right, love. You can’t even stand without us holding your up,” Lucien scoffed and began unbuttoning her sweaty blouse. “Come on, take this off.”

Feyre was too weak to continue resisting, so she allowed Lucien to undress her, while Rhys supported her, and then let herself be carried into bed.

“Did you see a doctor?” Lucien asked, digging out a set of pajamas and tossing them to Rhys, who began dressing her like a life-sized doll. Well, Feyre really hadn’t the energy to raise her arms and legs, so she guessed, a doll she was.

“No, went straight home,” she slurred, feeling terribly tired all of a sudden.

Lucien blew out a frustrated breath and shared a look with Rhys, who made a grim face and then tucked Feyre into bed, stuffing the comforter under her body and wrapping her up like a burrito. Feyre unsuccessfully tried to fight him off.

“Rhys, I’m hot,” she protested, wiggling like a caterpillar.

“Good. You should work up a sweat. Is there anything you’d like to eat? Drink?”

“Your lifeblood,” she grumbled moodily, giving Rhys the stink-eye. “Your head on a plate, but I would make do with your balls on a stick, roasted over open fire. Some chicken soup, if your balls are not available.”

Rhys gave her a bemused smirk and pressed his lips to her burning, sweaty forehead. “Alright, little savage. Chicken soup it is!”

Lucien came over with another damp washcloth that he must’ve fetched from the bathroom, running it softly over her face. Feyre gave a small sigh of approval.

“Write down what you need, hon, I’ll go shopping,” he said to Rhys. “Meanwhile, you guard our patient. Make sure she doesn’t escape!”

Feyre wanted to give a nasty retort, assuring them she was fine on her own and they were being ridiculous, but she didn’t even hear Rhys’ murmured answer to Lucien, because suddenly, her eyelids felt very heavy and she was gone, dragged under by sleep.

* * *

It took one whole gruesome day for Feyre to get better. One day that, despite her earlier reservations, made Feyre really happy she had her boyfriends to rely on.

In the course of one afternoon and one night, Feyre had sweated through 3 sets of pajamas and 2 sets of sheets. Whenever she woke up drenched in sweat, everything wet and damp around her, one of the guys hauled her out of bed and wiped down her sweaty body with a damp cloth, dressing her in dry clothes, while the other stripped down the sheets and aired out the bed. Her washing machine and dryer were running nonstop, but at some point, Lucien had to drive back to their place to bring back new sheets and an extra blanket, because Feyre’s had become so damp, she couldn’t use it anymore. He also brought some t-shirts and sweatpants of theirs for her to wear, because she had sweated through every pajama she possessed.

Rhys had made her a delicious chicken soup, that unfortunately refused to stay down. Which of course didn’t stop him from forcing it down her throat at perfectly spaced out time intervals, convinced that, although she puked it up 2 hours after eating latest, some nutrition remained in her body.

When, by the next morning, Feyre’s fever was still going strong and she was been near delirious, Lucien resorted to the one thing he usually never did: he called his mother, asking for help. She instructed her son, whom she hadn’t seen or talked to in years, how to make leg compresses, and then softly reprimanded him for never introducing her to Feyre and Rhys. She wouldn’t let Lucien off the phone before he hadn’t promised her a meeting.

“If she lives,” Lucien had added dryly. For some reason, Rhys hadn’t found it particularly funny. Feyre, however, giggled until she was crying. Okay, maybe she was really close to dying.

The compresses helped somewhat with the fever and around noon, the soup stayed down, causing a bleary-eyed Rhys and Lucien to fall into each other’s arms and cry timid tears of hope. Feyre simply rolled her eyes and went back to sleep.

When Feyre woke again around dusk, her fever had broken - and her boyfriends broken down.

They lay on either side of her on the bed, completely exhausted from taking care of her all night. As stealthily as she could, Feyre climbed over them and out of bed and snuck into the bathroom, taking a long, lukewarm shower. She had probably lost 2 kilos by sweating alone.

Finally feeling clean and slipping on a dry, good-smelling set of pajamas fresh out of the dryer, Feyre stuck her head into the bedroom. The two of them were still fast asleep. With a little smile she tiptoed back to bed and got back in, taking up her earlier place between them. They didn’t even stir.

It took some careful pulling and wiggling, but eventually Feyre managed to get out the comforter from underneath them and she spread it over herself and her boys. Pressing a kiss to both of their foreheads, carefully checking their temperature when she did, Feyre whispered a quiet  _thank you_  and went back to sleep.

She might have not wanted them to take care of her, because she was afraid they would catch whatever bug was  _bugging_  her, but Feyre couldn’t help but be grateful for these two wonderful men in her life.

She only hoped, when she woke up the next time, it wasn’t to find them puking out their guts.


End file.
